Highland Warrior

by Connie Mason

  “We want to return to our families,” a warrior called out.

  “Aye, we left them behind to follow Angus,” Robert explained. “ ’Twas wrong of us. We want to return to our homes, though they may be no more than hovels.” He shook his head. “Angus convinced us that the king gave him Ravenscraig Tower, and that our lives would be better here.”

  Slowly Gillian emerged from the rage that had caused her to attack Angus Sinclair. Seeing that she still held the bloody eating knife she had plunged into Angus’s chest, she dropped it and stepped away from the fallen man, wiping her hand on her gown.

  “I doona ken what has become of your homes or families, for my husband and father left several days ago to lay siege to the keep. But I’m sure if you swear fealty to my father, you will be forgiven and allowed to dwell on your land in peace.”

  Two of Sinclair’s kinsmen helped him to his feet.

  “Leave him,” Gordo cried. “Angus Sinclair must die!”

  “Have mercy!” Angus begged. “If you let me return to Edinburgh, I promise to remain there until the end of my days.”

  “You dare beg for mercy?” Gillian spat. “Did you show my dead brothers mercy? Nay, you killed them in cold blood. Had my eating knife been an inch longer, you would be dead.”

  “At least treat my wound,” Sinclair begged. “I am in pain.”

  “Why? You’re going to die anyway,” Gordo said coldly.

  “Make way,” Gizela said, pushing through the crowd. She stopped before Gillian, holding her basket of medicines in front of her. “Leave Angus Sinclair to me, lady. I will take care of him.”

  Gillian looked into Gizela’s eyes, understood what the healer was saying, and nodded. “Aye, I ken that you will, Gizela.”

  Gillian began shaking in the aftermath of all the violence, as if suddenly aware of what she had done. But she regretted naught. She would do it again, but the next time her aim would be true.

  Alice rushed over to her and led her to a bench. “Mama is fetching something to calm you. Look at you; you are shaking like a leaf. Are you unwell?”

  “Nay, I am well enough, albeit angrier than I have ever been in my life. My brothers are gone; naught will bring them back. But knowing that Angus Sinclair will pay for his crimes eases the hurt.”

  “Your father willna go easy on him,” Alice predicted.

  Gillian slid a knowing glance at Gizela. “Angus will die this day,” she predicted. “Has Gizela finished treating him yet?”

  Alice left Gillian briefly to check on Gizela’s progress. “I saw Gizela sprinkle a white powder on Sinclair’s wound. She is sewing him up as we speak,” she reported when she returned.

  “See that the rushes are changed. I want none of Angus Sinclair’s blood in my keep,” Gillian said weakly.

  As the tension ebbed from her body, her stomach roiled and her head began to ache. She wanted Ross. She wanted her husband. She wanted to lie in his arms and feel his comfort surround her.

  Hanna appeared with a mug of something hot and steaming. “You were verra brave, lass. ’Twas a great shock you just received. Drink this—it will calm you and soothe your bairn.”

  Gizela sidled up to Gillian as she sipped the potion. “ ’Tis done, lass. Angus Sinclair willna harm you or those you love again. He will breathe his last this day.”

  Gillian stared at Gizela. “Are you sure, verra sure? My eating knife did little damage.”

  Gizela’s wise old eyes held a wealth of knowledge. “Trust me, lady; Angus Sinclair is a dead man.”

  “Thank you, Gizela.”

  Gillian turned away as Sinclair’s kinsmen dragged him to his feet. They stood there, awaiting orders. Gordo strode toward her, his expression fiercely determined.

  “I told Sinclair’s kinsmen they may leave, Gillian, but their chieftain is to remain in our dungeon to await punishment.”

  “Let his kinsmen take him away,” Gillian said tiredly.

  “What? Nay! The man killed your brothers. Your father willna be pleased if I free him. The man deserves to die.”

  “Angus Sinclair will die, Gordo; doona doubt it. I doona want him to die in my keep. As for his kinsmen, they are innocent. They knew naught of Angus’s duplicity. Their wives and children need them. If my father and Ross decide a different fate is in order, let them dole it out.”

  “Ross will skin me alive if I let Sinclair leave without the punishment he deserves,” Gordo argued.

  Gillian stared off into space. “Gizela has taken care of Angus in her own way.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I amna sure. Gizela said he is a dead man, and I believe her.”

  His mouth agape, Gordo stared at Gillian a full minute before turning on his heel and barking out an order. Moments later Sinclair’s kinsmen dragged him out the door.

  “Let me help you to bed, Gillian,” Alice said. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day. I will bring a tray up to you later.”

  “I amna hungry.”

  “Mama will fix you something to tempt your appetite.”

  Though Gillian didn’t want to appear weak, she was in shock and grieving as Alice helped her to the solar and settled her in bed.

  Once Ross saw that Ramsey MacKay had everything under control at Wickhaven, he and his men left the keep and headed home. When they reached a cross-road, they spied riders approaching from the direction of Ravenscraig.

  “Can you identify them?” Ross asked Niall.

  Shading his eyes against the sun, Niall peered at the riders. “They’re wearing the king’s colors.”

  Ross raised his hand, halting his army “We’ll stop here and wait for them. If they’re coming from Ravenscraig, I want to know the nature of their visit.”

  It took a good fifteen minutes for the riders to reach them. “They have the look of the Sinclairs about them,” Donald muttered as he joined Ross and Niall. “Look there!” Niall cried, pointing to a horse bearing a body lying limply across its withers. “Who do you suppose that is?”

  “Pass the word,” Ross ordered. “No one is to draw a sword unless they threaten us.” Ross searched the face of each Sinclair in turn and then glanced at the dead man draped over the horse’s back.

  Robert Sinclair rode forth to meet Ross.

  “Who are you?” Ross asked.

  “Robert Sinclair.”

  Ross spared Sinclair’s uniform a scathing look. “Where do you think you’re going? Have you been to Ravenscraig Tower?”

  Robert’s horse danced beneath him, as nervous as Robert appeared. “You may as well know, laird, for you will learn of it soon enough. Our chieftain is dead, and we are returning to Sinclair land and our families. We doona like being mercenaries.”

  Ross rode over to the dead body, lifted its head, saw it was Angus, and let it drop. “How did he die?”

  “ ’Tis a mystery. Something happened at Ravenscraig that we doona understand.”

  Ross’s lips thinned. “Explain yourself. How did you gain entry to Ravenscraig? The walls are impregnable.”

  “We wear the king’s colors, though we will be glad to be free of them. Even you wouldna dare deny the king’s soldiers entry.”

  “That doesna explain your reason for visiting Ravenscraig, nor how Sinclair died.”

  “ ’Tis difficult to explain, much less ken, Laird Ross. We followed our chieftain to Ravenscraig on the king’s business, or so we were led to believe. Angus told us the king had awarded him stewardship of Ravenscraig Tower, and that our lives would improve if we followed him into battle. We were prepared to fight for Ravenscraig to better our lot, until we learned Angus had lied to us. He had no written order from the king.”

  “What happened?”

  “Your lady is verra brave, Laird Ross. She challenged Angus to show her the document with the king’s seal. Of course, he couldna. When Angus discovered you werena at Ravenscraig, he told your lady he intended to set a trap for you. He intended to kill you and your kinsmen as you rode into th
e bailey.”

  Ross smiled. “My lady is a true warrior woman. However, naught you’ve said thus far explains Sinclair’s death.”

  He scratched his head. “ ’Tis truly a mystery. Today we learned that Angus Sinclair betrayed his allies. We trusted him, until he bragged about killing the sons of our ally to further his own plans. When your lady heard Angus admit to killing her brothers, she plunged her eating knife into his chest. It didna appear to be a serious wound. Your healer treated him before we carried him off. Soon after we left Ravenscraig, however, he keeled over and died.”

  “Gillian stabbed Sinclair with her eating knife?” Ross repeated. He dismounted to take a closer look at the body.

  “Your lady showed more courage than most men,” Robert said admiringly. “Had she a sword in her hand, I swear she would have slain Angus where he stood. When Angus ordered us to kill her, none of us would obey him. Shamed by our chieftain’s treachery, we surrendered our swords. Angus broke the code of the Highlands; he didna deserve our loyalty.”

  Ross felt Gillian’s pain keenly. It must have been devastating to her to learn that Angus had killed her brothers. The shock could have dire consequences to a woman carrying a bairn.

  “Gordo MacKenna wanted to imprison Angus in the dungeon,” Robert continued, “but your lady told us to take him away. Gordo wasna happy with your lady’s decision.”

  “I doona doubt it,” Ross muttered, thinking that Gordo would have objected most strenuously. He was surprised Gordo hadn’t killed Sinclair on the spot.

  “Will you allow us to return to our homes and families?” Robert asked. “MacKay hasna harmed our wives and bairns, has he?”

  “You should have thought of them before you went haring off with your chieftain. But rest easy; we doona wage war on women and bairns. Ramsey MacKay has taken stewardship of Sinclair Keep. He will need men to work his land and tend his cows. If you swear fealty to him, I am sure he will welcome you back. Your lot will be better with Ramsey MacKay than it would have been with Angus Sinclair. He cared naught for the welfare of his people.”

  “Sinclairs and MacKays are allies,” Robert said. “We swore fealty to our overlord once, and we willna hesitate to do it again. Are we free to leave, Ross MacKenna?”

  “Aye, but when next we meet, you had best be wearing plaid instead of the king’s colors. Tell Ramsey what you told me, and mayhap he will allow you to remain on his land.”

  So saying, Ross turned his horse toward Ravenscraig and rode like the wind toward home and his wife. A wife he loved beyond reason, beyond his own life. Niall and the others trailed behind him, unable to keep up with his furious pace.

  The sun had disappeared behind the mountains, spreading shadows over the land when Ross rode through the portcullis into the inner bailey. He dismounted at the front steps, threw his reins to a young lad who had run up to greet him, and mounted the stairs two at a time. He burst into the hall as the tables were being laid for the evening meal.

  “Where is my wife?” he shouted to no one in particular.

  Gordo heard him and ran up to greet him. “You should have seen her, laddie. She was magnificent,” Gordo said, beaming.

  “I know all about it. I met the Sinclairs on the road. Angus is dead.”

  Gordo nodded. “That doesna surprise me, although he was verra much alive when he left here. I would have gone after him and seen to his demise if Gillian hadna persuaded me that I would be wasting my time. She kenned the traitor wouldna live long.”

  “Robert Sinclair told me that Angus died shortly after they left Ravenscraig. It was sudden and unexpected. Gillian was right, though I doona ken how or why. Where is she? Is she well?”

  “Alice took her upstairs to rest. She appeared to be in shock. It wasna easy for her to hear Sinclair brag about killing her brothers. We havena seen her since she left the hall, but Alice assured us she is well, and that your bairn thrives.”

  The words were scarcely out of Gordo’s mouth before Ross peeled away from him and raced up the stairs to the solar. He found Gillian sitting before the fire, wrapped in her MacKay plaid and staring into the flames. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings. Ross approached cautiously, so as not to frighten her. The breath caught in his throat when he saw silent tears streaming down her face.

  “Gillian.” He spoke her name softly. She turned her head and stared at him. At first he thought she didn’t recognize him.

  “He killed them, Ross,” Gillian whispered. “He wanted to kill all of them, Da and my brothers. Afterward, he intended to wed me and claim Braeburn.”

  Ross lifted her into his arms, then sat in the chair she had just vacated and settled her on his lap, murmuring comforting words into her ear.

  Her voice trembled as she said, “I wanted to kill Angus for what he did to my family. All this time I believed my brothers were slain by MacKennas. I hated you for it.”

  “Forget the past, sweet lass. We have the future ahead of us. A future where peace will reign in the valley and our children will know a life without bloodshed or feuds.”

  Gillian nestled in his arms, his warmth chasing away the coldness of reality. As long as she had Ross, all was right in her world. She couldn’t bring her brothers back, but she could make sure the clans never had reason to feud again.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Gillian took a deep breath and nodded. “We didna recognize Angus and his kinsmen at first; they wore the king’s colors. The men you left behind to guard the keep believed the party was sent by the king and let them ride through the gate unchallenged. Gizela warned us to lower the portcullis but we acted too late.

  “Angus was surprised to find you gone and the keep undefended. He was prepared to fight to claim Ravenscraig for himself. He immediately made plans to kill you and your party when you rode through the portcullis.” She shuddered. “I must have gone a wee bit daft then, for I stabbed him with my eating knife. I didna hurt him badly, but I wanted to.”

  Ross’s heart nearly stopped. “What if his men had turned on you? They could have slain you and our bairn.”

  “I’m sorry. I was too enraged to think past the horror of Angus’s confession. As it turned out, Angus’s kinsmen were as horrified as I by his treachery.”

  He feathered kisses on her lips. “I know. I met them on the road to Wickhaven.”

  She looked up at him. “Wickhaven?”

  “ ’Tis what your father renamed Sinclair Keep. He claimed ownership and left Ramsey in charge.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “Angus Sinclair is dead.”

  Gillian didn’t seem surprised. “Did you nae hear what I said?” he asked. “Sinclair is dead.”

  “Aye, I heard.” She shrugged. “I doona wish to talk about Angus Sinclair.”

  Ross frowned but respected her wishes, rocking her gently in his lap.

  “Do you want to hear about Seana McHamish’s fate?” Ross asked.

  Gillian nodded.

  “We found her at Wickhaven. She fled there after she left Ravenscraig. She remained there because she had no place else to go after Sinclair refused to take her to Edinburgh with him. The keep and its people were in sad shape. Your father promised to supply provisions and whatever else is needed until Ramsey can bring order to the keep and land.”

  “You didna kill Seana, did you?”

  “Nay, but in time she may wish she were dead. Your father escorted her to St. Sithian’s Abbey. ’Tis a strict order; she will spend the rest of her days in prayer, behind walls from which there is no escape.”

  Ross kissed her then, cradling her in his arms like a child he needed to protect. Gillian melted into the kiss, into his warrior’s body, drinking deeply of his vitality, his zest, growing stronger by the minute.

  “I feel better already,” Gillian said with a sigh when he broke off the kiss. “Seana is gone and Angus is dead, though Da willna be pleased to hear it. He would have wanted to exact his own brand of vengeance on Angus.”

  “Aye, I ken it. Th
e way you stood up to Sinclair was verra brave, lass, though foolish for a woman in your condition. You saved us, you know. If you hadna gotten Sinclair to admit he killed your brothers, his kinsmen wouldna have turned against him.”

  “Bravery had naught to do with it,” Gillian admitted. “ ’Twas rage that drove me. Rage and the knowledge that Angus meant to kill you. I love you, Ross MacKenna. I canna imagine my life without you in it.”

  Ross’s arms tightened around her. “That is something you need never worry about. You are mine, Gillian MacKay. And what is mine I keep. I love you, sweet lass.”

  A whisper of sound warned Ross that they were not alone. Immediately alert, he whipped his head around, surprised to see Gizela standing near the door.

  “Gizela, what do you here?”

  “Angus Sinclair is dead?”

  “Aye, he is.”

  Gizela nodded complacently, satisfaction clearly visible in her fathomless eyes.“’Tis as it should be.”

  Ross stared at her. Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

  “What did you do to him, Gizela?” Ross asked.

  “The man deserved to die,” the healer said. “He couldna be allowed to live.”

  “MacKay was robbed of the right to punish Sinclair in his own way.”

  Gizela shrugged. “’Twas better this way, neatly and quickly done, without fuss or bother. No great loss there. Think no more on it, laird. Attend your lady; she is your future.”

  She shuffled off, disappearing as mysteriously as she had come. “Gizela, wait! How did you do it?” Ross called. No answer was forthcoming.

  “Let her go, Ross,” Gillian said. “I knew Gizela didna intend for Angus to live. That’s why I let his kinsmen take him away over Gordo’s objection. I didna want him to die in my keep. We are well rid of him. Does it really matter how he died?”

  “Aye, naught matters but you, sweet lass, and the future that is ours to live.”

  Ross rose to his feet, taking Gillian up with him. He carried her to their bed and showed her without words the true meaning of love.

  Epilogue